A Secret Santa
by kahhtina
Summary: My Tumblr MM Secret Santa for Apollo888, posted here as well. An MM holiday AU where both Mary and Matthew are schoolteachers. Enjoy!


_This is my offering for MM Secret Santa on Tumblr this year for the wonderful Apollo888 here on . I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season!_

 _Enjoy!_

 **A Secret Santa**

Pens scratched and pages rustled as students revised their essays, a hum of silence filling the room along with a hint of anxiety.

Mary watched in silence from her desk, on hand to help any who needed it.

It was difficult enough to encourage concentration so close to the holidays, but especially trying to maintain while students worked on essays over Jonathan Swift, _Paradise Lost_ , and other Restoration period topics. Students were clamoring for next term and Gothic literature, like Mary Shelley's _Frankenstein_ , or to delve into a bit of Austen.

But after a month-long holiday break. Mary was aching for it herself.

"Miss Grantham, how much longer until the period is over?"

The class looked up, all waiting with bated breath for her answer, and Mary glanced at the clock on her desk, about to respond with, "Half an hour," when she heard a loud bang from down the hall. One of the girls nearest the ajar door screamed and dropped her pen.

Mary rose from her seat as the students began to murmur amongst themselves about the source of the sound, but she already knew where it had come from.

The chemistry lab.

"Please continue your revisions, I'll be right back."

Once out in the corridor she found Anna Bates, the French teacher and her neighbor.

"What on earth was that bang?" Anna asked, looking in the direction of the sound.

"I'll give you a wild guess," Mary said.

" _Oh mon Dieu_ ," Anna said as Mary turned for the science wing. "Don't be too hard on him."

"The rest of us are working on revisions and studying for final exams and he's going to blow up the school," Mary replied, leaving Anna to mutter in French under her breath. Mary knew she could count on her friend to keep an eye on her own students while she told off the school's very own mad scientist.

Her heels clicked their way down the granite corridor, taking her under holiday decorations that student groups had hung at the beginning of December. Holly and garland of evergreen boughs and Menorahs, paper snowflakes cut out and snowmen tapped to the walls made the entire school festive and ready for the season. Mary's own classroom had been decorated by her students throughout the month to liven the place up, remind them of home, and give them a break before the final push for exams. And now it seemed they'd get another one.

"Now we just witnessed-Maggie what was the term for the chemical reaction I just showed you?"

"An exothermic reaction of ethanol vapor, Mr. Crawley."

"It was combustion, more specifically," another girl piped up.

"Yes, very good Claudia."

The students, or the female students at least, all giggled at the teacher's praise before he returned to his lesson with animation.

"As opposed to endothermic reactions, in exothermic reactions, the enthalpy, or stored chemical energy which is a thermodynamic quantity, it is lower for the products than the reactants. So who can tell me what that means for this experiment?"

At this query, Mary knocked hard on the slightly open door. Twenty faces turned toward her, surprise on the face of Mr. Crawley while the students looked on in great interest.

"Ah, Miss Grantham, what brings you here?"

"May I speak with you privately?" she requested, plastering a smile on her face for the benefit of the students, most of whom were familiar to her.

"But of course." He turned to his class. "I'll be right back and someone better have my answer about the enthalpy for this chemical reaction. It might even have an answer that is quantifiable."

He followed Mary out into the hall, leaving the students looking nervously at each other, but interested in what their teachers were discussing.

"What can I do for you, Mary?" He pushed a pair of safety goggles onto the top of his head. "What brings you down to our laboratories?"

Mary forced herself not roll her eyes at him and his antics of sometimes pretending to be a mad scientist. His getup complete with a white lab coat, it wasn't much of a stretch, although it was adorable. Not that she'd let him know that. He had enough admirers from most of the teenaged girls in the school.

She'd known Matthew Crawley for over three years now and she still couldn't figure him out. They weren't the most chummy of colleagues, oil and water at times, but he loved to get her riled up.

"Well, _Doctor_ Crawley, if you and your minions could refrain from blowing up anything else this afternoon, we'd be much obliged. The rest of the school is trying to study for exams, not put on a show and wonder if we need to call the fire department."

He raised his eyebrows in amusement, clearly not troubled by her tone or her _Despicable Me_ reference.

"My class _is_ studying for exams. Did you not hear me drilling them on exothermic and endothermic reactions? We've already studied the Periodic Table and gone over units about ionic bonding, balancing equations. This is the final unit to review before we have our exam tomorrow."

"And your review involves possibly blowing up the school?"

"I have a fire extinguisher on hand, but the combustion is pretty well-contained, I shouldn't need to use it." He smirked, and Mary's frown deepened.

"Seriously? We are trying to keep things quiet for the students and maintain a bit of calm before the holidays. You know how hard that is, Matthew. You're deliberately trying to break their concentration!" She was growing so angry that she had to drop her voice to a whisper to keep herself from yelling at him. Her fists clenched.

"I am not, Mary," he said, holding out his hands in surrender. "Our subjects are just very different animals. Yours is all talking, writing, thinking. Mine is very hands-on. The students can't learn about exothermic and endothermic reactions without seeing them in action. It's chemistry."

There was a half-smile, one that she found herself on the receiving end of more and more lately. The other women teachers called Matthew "charming." Well, Mary knew he could be when he wanted to be. Apparently this was one of those times.

"It made one of my students shriek in surprise. So keep it down or I'll complain to the headmistress," she said, but could feel her resolve to be angry wilting slightly.

He smiled again, blue eyes sparkling.

"We'll try our best to keep the explosions to a minimum, Mary," he agreed, and Mary hardly dared to believe him. "I'll see you at Dr. Hughes' holiday party, won't I, if not sooner?"

For the first time since entering the corridor, Mary happened to glance over Matthew's shoulder, startled to see the door was not quite shut on Matthew's classroom. From the narrow window beside the door, she could see that the entire chemistry class was dead silent and hanging on every word of their conversation. No one was trying to work out any equation regarding the chemical reaction. Mary couldn't tell if it was because half the girls were in love with Matthew, or if they were interested for some other reason.

"Yes, I'll be there," she said, brief. "I should get back."

"Happy Shakespeare-ing," Matthew said, bringing down his safety goggles once more.

Mary didn't bother to correct him, wanting to get away from the enraptured gazes of the students.

"Don't burn the place down," she requested, and Matthew laughed, giving her a salute.

"Aye, aye."

Mary simply nodded stiffly before walking away.

Anna was still outside when she returned, but had clearly been flitting between their two classrooms to check on both groups of students in her absence.

"What happened?" she asked, crossing her arms with great interest.

"Matthew is doing some kind of experiment, an exothermic reaction that is obviously intended to drive us all crazy but not to burn down the school, according to him. I fully chastised him for conducting such a loud test right before exams, but he told me it was part of his review process," Mary complained. "What a bunch of-"

" _Des ordures_."

"In English."

"Garbage," Anna said. "I know he likes to get a rise out of you, but does it have to be at the expense to the rest of us?"

"You think he's conducting experiments this close to exams to toy with me?" Mary asked.

Anna shook her head. "Not exactly. Just you're really the only one who would be upset about it, aren't you? _La querelle d'amoureux_."

" _La que..._ what? _Amour_? That means 'love'. Anna, what are you talking about? Matthew and I are hardly friends, we're not in love!" Mary dropped her voice again, agitated by her friend's insinuation that there was something going on with her and Matthew. "What else did you say? I don't remember anything from high school French class."

"That makes me feel like my job is worthwhile," Anna said, wrinkling her nose. I said, 'A lover's quarrel'. You really need to brush up on your French."

Mary scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"No? The whole school has been talking about you two for the past term, even the students. What do they call it these days, 'shipping', I think? Oh, yeah, everyone ships you with Mr. Crawley," Anna said, matter-of-fact.

"That's ridiculous."

"Ridiculous or not, it's true," Anna replied, backing into her classroom and leaving Mary dumbfounded in the hall.

* * *

The following day Mary returned from a hasty lunch in the teacher's lounge to prepare for an afternoon of grading while her last group of students finished up their essay revisions. She was as ready for the holiday break as the students were and all that stood in the way was another day of final grading and tomorrow evening's holiday party at the home of Dr. Hughes and her husband, Mr. Carson.

Mary couldn't wait.

She turned on the light, absentmindedly walking over to her desk and about to unlock the drawer where she kept finished essays to grade when she noticed something out of order on her neatly organized desk. Two packages wrapped in brown paper and tied together with red ribbon had been placed in front of her chair, an envelope tucked beneath one of the bands of ribbon.

Frowning, Mary picked up the envelope and pulled out a nondescript holiday card. Inside, only two words had been written, "From Santa." She didn't recognize the handwriting immediately, but thought perhaps the gift was from Anna and her husband had written the card, or even a student had dropped it off on her desk during lunch.

The contents of the packages would prove her wrong.

After sliding the ribbon off from around the packages, both of which were clearly books, Mary removed the brown paper from the top one to find a book entitled, _Coping with Difficult People: The Proven-Effective Battle Plan That Has Helped Millions Deal with the Troublemakers in Their Lives at Home and at Work_. Reminded of the incident with Matthew yesterday, Mary again thought of Anna and laughed at the title of the older, which was evident from the worn, multi-color cover. She set it aside, picking up the next book to unwrap it.

Pulling the brown paper off and looking at the marbled hardback cover, Mary nearly dropped the edition she held. She felt as though she should be wearing gloves rather than hold it with her bare hands, and with bated breath Mary glanced at the spine of the book to read the words _Mansfield Park_. She exhaled slowly, gingerly opening the cover to look at the frontispiece: _Mansfield Park by Jane Austen; Persuasion by the Same._

The publication date was 1833 by Richard Bentley, which Mary knew to be the second publication of _Persuasion_ , her favorite Austen novel, and the first single-volume edition.

But who else knew she was such a nerd about it?

After gingerly wrapping the nearly 200-year-old book and tucking it away in her desk, Mary made a beeline for Anna's classroom. She found Anna grading French exams at her desk.

"What's the big idea?" she asked, not bothering to preface her visit.

"What are you talking about?" Anna looked up from her tests, confusion on her face.

"The books you left on my desk. That 1833 edition of _Mansfield Park_ and _Persuasion_ had to cost you upwards of £1,000 or more." Mary's tone was scolding and also baffled that her friend would purchase such an expensive gift for her. "What were you thinking?"

"Someone bought you a book that cost £1,000?"

"You can give it up already, I know it was you, _Santa_ ," Mary said. "How many people here even know _Persuasion_ is my favorite Austen novel? And the other book with it, _Coping with Difficult People_? Who would buy me such a book?"

Anna's eyes widened. "Not me, I swear. And honestly, after the row you had with Matthew yesterday, that one sounds like a book he'd buy you as a joke."

Mary rolled her eyes. "It doesn't explain the second edition. The book that's practically a paycheck. Why would he get me something like that?"

"Well, _il est amoureux de toi_ ," Anna murmured, not meeting Mary's gaze.

"You know I hardly understood a word you said except for ' _amour_ ,' but he is not in love with me," Mary said, indignant.

"That's exactly what I said, and we've all just been waiting to see how long it takes for the two of you to do something about it. It's been three years and, God, it's good so see Matthew finally doing something," Anna said. "Plus, we've been taking bets in the teacher's lounge and mine was about to expire."

Mary's jaw fell open. "I can't believe you, _my_ friend, have been making bets about my love life!"

"Oh, come on, it was harmless, and the whole school knows about you two. If you thought the students were bad, well, the teachers are even worse."

"Clearly," Mary said, eyes narrow. "But I really don't think it was Matthew."

Anna shrugged. "Who else could it be?"

"P-perhaps, Dr. Hughes-?" she began, but Mary was floundering. "Or a student."

"What student is going to buy you a book that costs that much? Want me to ask Matthew tomorrow?"

Mary shuddered at the thought. "No, don't bring it up," she said. "I'm certain it wasn't him. It has to be someone else. We don't even get along."

But the more she denied that it could be Matthew, the more she felt that she was wrong, and not just based on the facts in front of her.

His behavior over the last year had been so much different than it was before. In the past, they didn't see each other much. Sure, they ran into each other in the teacher's lounge or the halls on occasion, but ever since term began in September she saw Matthew practically every day, even on weekends as she shopped in town, which had rarely happened before. In these instances he'd gone out of his way to interact with her, making small-talk about her family, what she was doing in her off-hours, and generally being pleasant. So, in hindsight, she was wrong; they didn't always get along, but it was clear that he often tried to be friendly when he saw her, especially outside of work.

And now she wondered, how did he know where and when she shopped, what she liked to read? Was he stalking her?

"He makes you laugh," Anna said, interrupting Mary's thoughts about her whereabouts last weekend when she ran into Matthew outside a shop while looking for gifts for her two sisters and their husbands. "Although sometimes you force yourself not to."

Out in the corridor she could hear the sounds of students filing back from lunch for their final rounds of exams before the holidays.

"It wasn't him," Mary repeated, more and more unconvincing by the minute.

"Mmhmm," Anna demurred, eyes returning to her exams as students began to file into the room.

Unfocused, Mary returned to her own classroom, the Austen edition weighing heavily on her mind as it sat locked at the bottom of her desk drawer.

* * *

The holiday party at the home of Charles Carson and Dr. Elsie Hughes provided a ceremonial bookend to the school term every year for the staff. Being welcomed into the home of the headmistress and her husband, while intimidating at first, was usually a highlight of Mary's holiday season before she went home to a family visit that included happy sisters and their husbands and lots of nieces and nephews, as well as endless commentary on her own singleness. Plus, it gave the staff a chance to imbibe on the more traditional holiday spirits and richer treats of the season after completing final marks. But for Mary, this year she was keen to avoid Matthew. Or confront him. She hadn't decided what she wanted.

As she stood in a corner of the sitting room, nursing some mulled wine that Mr. Carson had poured for her, she kept glancing to the door in expectation of Matthew's arrival. She hadn't seen him since receiving the gifts, but in the day that followed, she had resolved to bring it up when she saw him. And two glasses of wine in less than an hour had almost strengthened her resolve enough for her to see it through.

"How is he not here yet?" Mary finally spoke, interrupting Anna's conversation with her husband John about some incident regarding students that Mary had not been paying mind to.

"Matthew, you mean? Perhaps he is, but you've trapped yourself as far away from him as possible. Good on you," Anna said, taking a sip of her own drink more daintily than Mary's final gulp of her mulled wine. "How many of those have you had?"

"Not nearly enough," Mary said. "I'm going for a refill, does anyone need more to drink?"

"No, but some food would be good," Anna ventured. "I saw they had those little puds, didn't you see, John, the tartlets?"

"Maybe later," Mary said, leaving the pair in search of more to drink.

She slipped through the crowd of her colleagues, issuing perfunctory greetings to those she hadn't seen yet, but really making haste toward the dining room where the refreshments were being kept. She switched out her mulled wine for a glass of champagne, taking a long drink as others filtered in to refill their own glasses or plates. As she drank, she watched as Matthew entered the room, deep in conversation with Mr. Carson. Both men were in search of more food, already holding plates in their hands.

She wondered when Matthew had arrived, although it was obvious he hadn't bothered to seek her out. _See, Anna? It wasn't from him._

"Now, that's where I think you're wrong, Matthew. Sure Manchester United has some quality football players, but when it comes to the Premier League, it has to be-"

No one heard Mr. Carson's response because Mary found herself interrupting the two men's conversation.

"Matthew, might I speak with you?"

Neither had noticed Mary in the room, as there were others about as well, but both were surprised at her interruption.

Looking flummoxed, all Matthew said to Mary was, "Sure." To Mr. Carson he begged to be excused, setting his plate aside before following Mary from the room. Mary held onto her champagne glass.

She led him out to the sunroom overlooking the back garden, knowing the chance of being interrupted in there would be slim since it was chilly and almost like being outside. The wood-burning stove that sat in one corner of the room was cold, as the occupants of the house had not expected anyone to bother going out back, although they had decorated the room for Christmas. Lights had been strung across the ceiling along with garland and other tinsel, bringing the festive feeling of the house out into the back garden.

"What's up?" Matthew asked. His original shock at seeing Mary in the dining room had quickly been replaced by ease.

But Mary was on edge. She hesitated briefly before saying what first came to mind.

It was like word-vomit, but more rehearsed.

" _Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any unwelcome sensations, arising from domestic affairs changed naturally into pity and contempt as he turned over the almost endless creations of the last century; and there, if every other leaf were powerless, he could read his own history with an interest which never failed_."

Even reciting the first paragraph from her favorite novel did little to relax her as it usually could. During her speech, Matthew's eyebrows had risen slowly out of confusion, but now he frowned at her monologue.

"What's this? Are you going all English-major on me for some reason that I don't understand?" he asked.

She sighed, aggravated, but no closer to figuring out where the blasted books had come from.

"Never mind. Someone left two books on my desk yesterday. Anna thought it might be you, but she was clearly incorrect. I told her it had to be someone else," Mary explained.

She turned to go, champagne glass still in-hand, when Matthew spoke.

" _I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope._ "

Mary halted abruptly, shoulders tense. She set her glass on a nearby shelf holding some books on bird watching and a pair of binoculars before facing Matthew again.

"What?" Her voice was a whisper, a hush of disbelief.

A half-smile played across his lips, eyes dancing.

" _For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes?_ "

Mary's heart throbbed madly in her chest, her pulse making it difficult to hear her own thoughts, if she even had any in her head anymore.

"What...what are you saying?" She shook her head. "You did buy those books for me?"

He nodded.

In spite of all the warnings from Anna, Mary was shocked. "Matthew, that book must have cost you over a thousand pounds."

"It's not important," he said, gentle.

"But w-why would you do such a thing?"

Looking nervous for the first time, he moved a few steps toward her, reaching out to take her hand.

"Mary."

He only spoke her name, but she felt a jolt of electricity move through her at his voice, his touch, willing her to step toward him.

She was closer to him than ever before, his blue eyes warming her like the sun on a summer day as she gazed at him. The current that she had felt when he spoke her name now hummed through her, and she wondered if he felt it too, that energy that had always lay beneath the surface now coming to life under the twinkling lights.

With her free hand she reached up and, after a moment's hesitation, brushed her fingers through his hair. This final touch was all the encouragement Matthew needed to erase the remaining space between them.

He kissed her, the territory unfamiliar and yet she was completely at ease. Not that the kiss wasn't exciting; no, her heart pounded wildly as Matthew backed her into a wall, she tugged on his hair and even parted his lips with her tongue. It wasn't that.

She felt no embarrassment at snogging Matthew, even in the sunroom of Elsie Hughes and Charles Carson. If anyone were to discover them, she was sure she would shrug it off and, hell, even kiss him again. It felt right, as though they should have been doing this all along.

He pulled back from her, smiling once more and Mary found herself genuinely smiling for the first time that night.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that," he said, hands on Mary's waist. "God, I've had such a schoolboy crush on you."

"You hid it well," Mary said, brushing her thumb against his cheek. "Especially the constant teasing and jokes about chemistry. And lately showing up at my regular shops in town? I was beginning to think I had a stalker on my hands. But never would I have guessed such a grand gesture was awaiting me. How did you even know _Persuasion_ was my favorite Jane Austen novel? Did Anna tell you?"

"I wasn't I going to ask her that," he said, leaning into her touch. "No, last spring I overheard some of my students mention it so I started calling rare bookstores for early editions. It is amazingly difficult to find a first printing, so I had to settle for the second."

"Last spring? You've been planning this for almost a year?" Mary was astonished he would put so much effort into a gift for her, but then she remembered Anna's words from a few days ago, well, the English translation: _he's in love with you_.

She felt warmth and panic at the same time.

"I may have gone a bit overboard," he admitted, oblivious to Mary's conflicting emotions. "I just wanted you to have something you'd enjoy."

"Were you planning on revealing your secret identity to me, Santa?" Mary asked, her hand gliding down his neck until she laid it on his shoulder. She played with his shirt collar, fingers brushing against the knot of his tie to distract herself from any concerns she had regarding Matthew's precise feelings for her. She felt like she'd already come to terms with her own, which were stronger than she realized.

"In good time," he said, refusing to answer, but still grinning. "I didn't expect you to drunkenly confront me before I got the chance."

"I'm not drunk," Mary said. "I just wanted a straight answer, which you hardly gave me."

"Quoting from your favorite book isn't direct enough for you? Next time do I need to ride in on a white horse?" he teased, kissing the end of her nose. "But wait, wait, wait. You know how I feel. What about you? Why'd you let me kiss you? As a courtesy?"

"No," she said, feeling self-conscious now that he was asking Mary to share her thoughts aloud. She kept her eyes on his tie.

"As a 'thank you'? What?" She could hear the growing frustration in his voice, as though he didn't believe that it wasn't some drunken kiss. That she regretted it.

She met his gaze again, for she did not regret it, only wanted to do it again. She was surprised he hadn't pulled away from her, that his hands still remained on her waist, warm and reassuring.

"For someone who spends most of her time studying the works of great authors who write of beauty and glory and...love, well, I am not adept at sharing my own feelings at the ready."

Matthew's eyes softened. "Is it too much for me to ask you to try?"

She cleared her throat, resolving not to look away until she was done.

" _I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I_ had _begun._ "

Mary's fingers wrapped around Matthew's tie, pulling his face closer to hers.

"Contrary to popular knowledge, I didn't memorize the whole of _Persuasion_ to impress you. Just those few lines," he joked.

"That line is actually from _Pride and Prejudice_ ," Mary said, smiling in response.

"Haven't read it and I didn't see the movie," Matthew said.

He rested his forehead against hers for a brief moment, and Mary half-wondered why she had fought Anna's assertions the previous day about Matthew's feelings for her, and her own feelings for him. But instead of contemplating them further, she kissed him again, all but forgetting her hesitation as their lips met.

"So, I should warn you about something before we go back in there," Mary said, Matthew taking her hand after their prolonged snogging session.

"And what's that? Have you been tearing the mickey out of me behind my back?" He joked. Other than the incident a few days ago, she couldn't remember anything that would have caused her to speak of him to someone else at all, let alone poorly.

"Nothing like that," Mary said, halting them on the threshold of the sunroom before re-entering the kitchen. "It seems the other staff had this bet going about when the two of us would get...romantically involved. Anna told me about it the other day."

"Hmm." He didn't look overly nonplussed by the realization, but actually seemed to find it rather funny. "Do you think it's too late for me to get in on some of that action?"

"Matthew!" Mary scolded him. "Since you're one of the reasons they thought there was anything going on at all, there would be no way they'd let you place a bet."

"I mean, the odds were actually only fifty-fifty that I'd win anything," he observed. "And I could really use some extra quid. My girlfriend has expensive taste in books."

Mary felt herself blush for the first time that night, but didn't question his use of the word 'girlfriend'.

"Well, no one told you to buy it," she said, teasing him easily. She retrieved her champagne glass, not wanting to leave it for their boss to find later.

"You've known me for over three years now, Mary. You should realize by now that I am a man of big gestures."

"Is that why your chemistry lab is constantly on the verge of blowing up the school?" she questioned, leading him back inside.

"It's called hands-on learning, love," he retorted as they walked entered the kitchen to find Dr. Hughes preparing to take more trays of hors d'oeuvres into the dining room.

"Mary, Matthew, what on earth were you doing out there? It's bloody freezing-" She began to scold them in her Scottish brogue, but halted when she saw they were holding hands. "Oh, damn, I can't believe I lost the bet!"

"You too?" Mary asked, setting the champagne glass aside. She was astounded even the headmistress of the school was involved in the petty gambling ring like the rest of the staff.

"Oh, everyone wanted a piece of the action, it was such a sure thing," Dr. Hughes said. "But the key was _timing_. I thought it would take the two of you at least until next spring to soften up. Some of us hadn't factored in the enchantment of the holidays."

"Or expensive gifts," Matthew muttered.

"Gifts? Do tell." Dr. Hughes had all but forgotten the trays of brie and decorated biscuits that were in her hands.

"Matthew gave me a Bentley edition of _Mansfield Park_ and _Persuasion_. 1833," Mary explained, proud. Matthew shifted, uncomfortable for the first time that night, but Mary cast a smile at him and he rebounded with a small grin.

"My, oh my, how romantic," Dr. Hughes replied, stunned. "And everyone knows what an Austen fan you are, Mary. Didn't you take your class to Winchester last spring just so you could show them her final home and resting place in Winchester Cathedral?"

"I did," Mary said. Visiting the places where her favorite authors once lived, wrote, and even died was, at times, morbid, usually invigorated Mary.

"Well, I suppose I should get ready to empty out my pocketbook. Charles will not be pleased."

"How much had the pool gotten up to?" Matthew asked with interest.

"A couple hundred quid," Dr. Hughes admitted. "Rather silly, but nearly all of it will go to Anna Bates."

Mary snorted. "That seems like quite a conflict of interest. Shouldn't there be some sort of regulations on whether Anna should be allowed to participate?"

"Maybe we can get her to donate it to the school trip fund," she replied. "Or your wedding, hmm?"

With this, Dr. Hughes then exited with the trays, unaware of the discomfort she had left between Matthew and Mary.

"From secret Santa to wedding planning, huh?" Matthew finally spoke, breaking the silence that threatened to last for endless minutes. "Well, I hope Anna does contribute her gambling winnings, I haven't the funds to throw a wedding."

"Please don't listen to them," Mary requested, meeting his eyes once again. "They're all much too invested in our relationship." She could tell the blush that had happened upon Matthew calling her his 'girlfriend' was creeping back into her cheeks, and wondered if she could blame it on the heat of the room if he asked.

"You're not embarrassed, are you?"

Mary could tell he was unsure, and she again wanted him to know that she did not regret a moment that had passed since they'd entered the sunroom.

"By you? Of course not," she said, giving his hand a squeeze. "Sure, I wish our colleagues were less involved in our relationship, but I'm not embarrassed."

And to give him a final reminder, aware that they could be seen through the doorway to the dining room, Mary kissed her secret Santa.


End file.
